It's All Downhill from Here
by CrazySockGirl
Summary: Sherlock forces Molly to watch the newest Watson and things just go downhill from there. After all, she doesn't look pregnant, right? ...right! rated t for swearing and sexual references.


"What?" Molly asked, her brow furrowing further. She turned her gaze to the man standing in front of her holding the Watson baby by her armpits.

"Just for one night please?" Sherlock asked, attempting and failing to pull off a convincing puppy dog face. She wrinkled her nose at him.

"No." She said, returning briefly to her paperwork before saying, "and you're hurting her, Sherlock."

"I am not, she's perfectly fine." Sherlock said, gently shaking the one-year old baby, who giggled. Molly stood up and took the baby from his arms, showing him the proper way to hold the child. A slight stench reached her nose. "Did you remember to change her Sherlock?"

No one responded and Molly looked up from the baby to glance around the room before letting out a screech.

"SHERLOCK!" She yelled, but the consulting detective in question was already gone. She looked back at the baby in question. "I guess it's just you and me, huh?"

The third Watson began to cry.

* * *

"How dare you do that to me, Sherlock! I told you no!" Molly slammed through the door to 221B the next day, only to find it unoccupied by the recipient of her fury.

"He's not here, dear." Mrs. Hudson tutted from the kitchen.

"Mrs. Hudson, what are you doing in here?" Molly asked, still poised for attack in the door frame.

"Cleaning out the fridge. He really leaves the most horrible things in it." Mrs. Hudson responded. "Body parts, you know. I try not to think about where he gets them." Molly cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Yes, I'm afraid that would be from me." She said, her face turning slightly pink.

"Oh." Mrs. Hudson looked at her speculatively. "I wouldn't have even considered you dear, but I suppose you can never guess one's hobbies. I won't judge you dear, I did a bit of black market dealings myself when I was young you know-"

"That's not… No, I don't…. I'm a…" Molly stuttered before deciding that it was perhaps best to just give up on the conversation all together. "Did he say where he was going?"

"Fraid, not, just that he had a new case." She said thoughtfully. "Brought the baby with him, too, now that I think about it. In my time, I would have never brought a baby to a crime scene."

"Actually he dropped her off with me. I just returned her to her worried parents." Molly interrupted. "I can't believe he's so irresponsible, I don't even want to think about what will happen when he has his own kid."

"I know how these things go, dear." Mrs. Hudson tittered. "One minute you're minding your own business and the next minute you find you weren't as careful as you thought with your protection and your about four months pregnant with a baby that you're pretty certain you don't remember conceiving with your husband and aren't certain you wanted in the first place."

"No, Mrs. Hudson, that's not…"

"Anyways, I'm sure Sherlock will come around to being a father eventually, he really does adore the little ones. Once I saw him grab one from the restaurant across the street and just walk around London with it for a bit."

"Sherlock and I didn't- did you just say that Sherlock kidnapped a child? What happened to it?" Molly asked, her eyes wide and her jaw threatening to go slack. "Why didn't you call the police on him?"

"Well it's not as if he would have hurt the thing?" Mrs. Hudson replied, returning to cleaning out the fridge. "I have a spare crib if you need one dear."

"I'm not pregnant, Mrs. Hudson. However, I am feeling a twitch coming on." Molly said, turning and walking out the door.

"I have some herbal soothers if you need them." Mrs. Hudson said, but Molly was already gone. "My, my, her hormones sure are acting up."

* * *

Deciding that finding Sherlock was of the utmost importance, Molly made her way down to Scotland Yard. Sally was sitting at the receptionist desk.

"What do you want?" Sally spit. "Did the freak tell you to come down here, because he just left."

"I wanted to talk to - did you say Sherlock just left?" Molly asked "Do you know where he went?"

"No." Sally said shortly. Molly stood there in awkward silence for a moment.

"Is Greg here? Can I see him?"

"He's meeting with-" Sally cut herself off and smiled, leaning forward. "Never mind. He's free, go right ahead, his office is the first on the left."

"Okay…" Molly replied, walking past her. Greg's door was labeled and she knocked on it, waiting for a response. When she didn't get one, she looked back at Sally, who smiled at her and motioned for her to go on in. She opened the door.

"Greg-" Molly began, but was cut off immediately by screeching blonde, who pointed hysterically at her.

"Who is this?!" She yelled, tears pouring down her face. When Greg, who sat in his office chair moved to respond, the blonde cut him off. "I knew it! I knew you were cheating on me! How dare you accuse me of cheating on you when you've been doing the same thing!"

"I'm not-" Greg started.

"I'm just-" Molly began. The woman screamed and ran out of the room dramatically. Greg sighed and slumped in his chair.

"There goes my marriage." He said. Molly glanced at the door, at him, and back at the door.

"That was your-"

"Yes." Greg answered, massaging his forehead. "Do you need something Molly?"

"Well, I was wondering if you'd seen Sherlock lately?" Molly asked hesitantly.

"Is this about what Mrs. Hudson just called me about?" Greg said, leaning forward considerably brightened. "She called me saying that she thinks he may have been wrong about the whole Sherlock being gay thing because a woman of questionable of morals walked into the flat looking for Sherlock because she was pregnant with his child."

"She said I had questionable morals! She was the one who-"

"You're pregnant?" Greg's mouth slid open.

"SHE'S PREGNANT?" Molly turned to find that Greg's wife had returned. "THAT'S WHY YOU ACCUSED ME OF CHEATING, BECAUSE YOU WANT TO MARRY SOMEONE WHO CAN BEAR YOU MORE CHILDREN" She turned to Molly. "WELL GUESS WHAT, AS SOON AS YOU GET FAT FROM YOUR LOVE CHILD, HE'LL LEAVE YOU TOO."

"SHE'S NOT PREGNANT WITH MY CHILD, LEANNE!" Greg yelled. Leanne closed her mouth.

"She's not?" Leanne asked.

"No she's a Pathologist at . Nothing more. It's not my baby, it's Sherlock Holmes's baby." Greg explained. Leanne turned to Molly and offered a hand.

"I'm so so sorry." Leanne said. "I've been so out of sorts lately. I didn't mean to jump to that conclusion, but I tend to be a bit hot headed. Congrats on your pregnancy."

"I'm not-" Molly began, but before she could finish, Sally barged in.

"The freak found someone to procreate with him, did he?" Sally said in disgust, eyeing Molly up and down. "I thought perhaps you were just stupid, but clearly you're just as much of psychopath as he is. I dread what the outcome will be, nothing less than world destruction I suspect."

Molly felt her face get very red, filled with rage. This was not what she had hope her day would turn out to be. She had hoped to finish her shift early, lay into Sherlock a bit, go home and perhaps get started on the eleventh season of Doctor Who. She had heard the new Doctor was gorgeous-

"Shut up for once, Sally," Greg sighed, rubbing his temples. Sally opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She stomped her foot and left, no doubt to spread the word of Sherlock's not so real baby to the rest of Scotland yard. Greg turned to Molly. "Have you told Sherlock yet?"

"I'm not-" Molly started once again, in an attempt to stop the rumor once again.

"Well, dear- if you aren't ready, Greg and I would be happy to have it." Leanne interrupted hopefully. Greg looked ready to puke at the thought of raising Sherlock's baby. Molly yelled and left the room in a huff. Leanne looked at the door. "Someone is very hormonal. It was only a suggestion. She didn't have to be so upset about it."

* * *

Molly was in the process of hailing a taxi home when a sleek black car pulled up to the sidewalk and a charming woman stepped out to open the door for her. Knowing that going home was no longer an option, she slid into the interior reluctantly. A older man sat across from her, legs crossed, a cane lying in the seat next to him, looking considerably thinner than the last time she saw him.

"You comment on my weight and I shall comment on yours" Mycroft said threateningly. Molly gulped and swallowed her compliment. "I must say that I am surprised with my brother, Molly."

"So you heard that he-"

"Knocked you up? Yes. I had thought that it would take him longer, however. Mummy only spoke to him about grandchildren again last Christmas." He looked pointedly at molly. " I had not thought that he would be so… proactive."

"Are you insinuating that I'm easy?!" Molly said in anger, forgetting to correct his mistake in calling her pregnant.

"No, of course not." Mycroft said in such a way that she did not find it comforting at all. "In fact, I am quite glad. This takes the pressure off of me."

"Well I am sorry to inform you,"-she said not very sorry at all-"but I am not pregnant."

"Are you not?" He replied, pulling out a file." You have been eating more lately" _My job has been more stressful lately_ , she thought. "You have gained five pounds in the last three weeks" _Did he not just mention that I was eating more._ "You have been having more outbursts lately." _again stress_. "I have not had the opportunity to get your urine test, but I am quite certain that you are indeed pregnant. Considering your lack of connections with any other men in recent months, It can only be Sherlock's."

"That's all misinformation-"

"Is it?" He questioned. She wanted to tell him she hadn't even had sex in six months to prove it, but then thought about what he might do with that information and bit her tongue. He pulled out a box and handed it to her. "The most accurate pregnancy test on the market, Ms. Hooper."

"I'll only take this to prove you wrong." She said, slipping into her purse.

"Of course." Mycroft responded with a lip-less smile as the car slowed in front of Molly's flat. "Thank you for taking the time to talk with me."

" _My_ pleasure, Mycroft." Molly said, her voice sugar saccharine, rolling her eyes as she stepped out of the car and onto the street. "Goodbye Alethea"

A hand appeared from the driver side to squeeze her hand comfortingly before letting it go and driving off. Molly sighed and made her way into her building, hand clutching the note that had been slipped inside of it. She made her way to the elevator, only to find that she had run out of her 30 monthly elevator rides and would have to pay her dick of a landlord if she wanted to use it. Turning around, she slowly made her way up four flights of stairs to her flat. Unlocking her flat, she stepped inside, sliding against the door after she closed it. Molly unclasped her hand to read the note.

 _Mycroft is stupid_

 _Trust me I'd know ;)_

 _I'll tell him the truth… eventually._

 _Too good an opportunity let him figure it out on his own_

 _Lots of love,_

 _A._

"At least someone is sane." Molly muttered to herself, checking her watch. It was only 7:30pm and she didn't have work tomorrow. Good. That means that she could drown her sorrows in alcohol and console herself with Doctor Who until sunrise... at least. She made her way into her tiny, but brightly painted kitchen to the cabinet which held all of her good alcohol. It was empty. Molly swore and lifted herself onto the narrow countertop to peer into the top most shelf where all her alcohol _usually_ was. A small white card stood in its place.

 _You're Welcome._

 _Mycroft._

"F this!" Molly shouted. "I'll take that stupid test and then I'll go shove it up your ass!" Determined to to do just that, Molly pulled the test out of her purse and headed to her tiny bathroom.

40 minutes later she sat impatiently on a stool in her kitchen with her laptop, pondering whether or not taking a picture of the negative pregnancy test and posting it, along with a strongly worded caption about making assumptions about friends' pregnancy statuses, on facebook. It would definitely get the point across to everyone, but she was also friends with her mother on there, and no matter how open her mom was, there was no way she was having _that_ conversation.

The whole day had been awful, and as she sat there, the enormity it all hit her. Scotland Yard thought she was pregnant, Mrs. Hudson thought she was pregnant- Oh, and she would definitely tell sherlock- who would accuse her of lying because lord knows they'd never had sex… and… and… the waterworks came before she even had time to stop them. Her tears turned into hiccups and she sat there hiccupping and sobbing, nearly missing the sound of the phone ringing in her pocket.

 _Pull yourself together Molly,_ she told herself. swallowing her sniffles and rubbing her nose, she pulled her phone from her pocket to look at the caller id. Mary Watson. _shit._ She reluctantly pressed talk and held the phone to her ear.

"Why didn't you tell us you were pregnant!" Mary squealed. "This is so exciting, our babies will only be like two or three years apart and they can be best friends!"

"I'm not pregnant." Molly said flatly. There was silence on the other end of the phone.

"...you're not?" Mary asked.

"Don't you think if I were pregnant, with Sherlock's baby nonetheless, you and sherlock would be the ones I would tell?"

"Well, yes, I suppose. I just got so excited there." Mary said, then paused. "Um, Molly, I thought you should know that I found out from Mrs. Hudson, and told John, who, um, told Sherlock."

Molly groaned and let her forehead slam against the keyboard of her laptop sitting on the counter in front of her.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine." Molly grumbled, pulling the phone back up against her ear.

"He said he was going to go see you." Mary added hesitantly.

"Fan-freaking-tastic"

"For what it's' worth, I'm sorry."

"Me too."

There was a knock on the door, loud and obtrusive, cutting effectively through the girls conversation.

"It's him," Molly said nervously, "what do I do?"

"I don't know." Mary said. Sherlock knocked louder and Molly hung up. She eased her way to the door, standing nervously in front of it.

"MOLLY. I know you're in there. I can hear you breathing!" He yelled. Molly sucked in her breath and unlatched the door and Sherlock came barreling in, an indescribable look on his face.

"I-"

"No," Sherlock said, effectively cutting her off, " I need to say this first. I don't care that I don't remember" he gestured to her "doing this, but I want the baby. "

"Sherlock-"

"I'm not done, Molly. I don't understand what happened- or why you didn't bring it up- or why you didn't tell me to my face, but-" Sherlock grabbed her face, search her eyes, "I want this, I want you, I want to-"

"I'm not pregnant."

"-to marry you."

They paused and looked at each other in silence, and shock.

"You're not?"

"You want to-" Molly trailed off as Sherlock spoke.

"But John.. Mrs. Hudson… you've gained five and a half pounds…"

"It perfectly normal to gain weight sometimes." Molly said defensively. She then softened. "Sherlock, don't you think you'd remember if we…"

"I thought maybe it happened on St. Patrick's day." Sherlock admitted, "I can't remember anything from that night."

" _no,"_ Molly said softly. "Sherlock, did you mean it? When you said you'd marry me?"

"Naturally." He said. "Children of married parents tend to do better in life."

"... My parents were divorced…" Molly said, deflated and angry. For a second she had thought he might have recuperate her feelings, but then he had to go and say that. "Are you saying I'm stupid?"

"Of course not, just that-" Sherlock cut himself off, realizing he was digging himself into a hole.

"Right then, out you go." Molly said, pointing to the door and avoiding eye contact. Sherlock looked at her for a moment before starting to slip out. Molly turned to go into her bedroom to wallow in grief.

"We could always try right now of course." Sherlock said as casually as he could as he walked out the door. Molly turned around to stare at Sherlock's back, her mouth gaping.

"What?!"

"You know, for a baby," Sherlock said, turning around. "I wouldn't mind one, if it was with you."

"What?" Molly though back to her conversation with Mycroft. "This isn't because your mother said she wanted grandchildren is it, because I'm not going to be-"

"No."

"Then… What?" Molly rubbed her temples. Sherlock looked at her for a long moment before kneeling.

"I know I'm poor at these types of things Molly, " He said, "But I could see myself sitting at a breakfast table in ten years with you by my side and our kids next to us. I have thought about your side of it too, and I would like you to know that I think we would produce sufficient offspring. With my genius and your relatively strong intelligence, our kids would be very smart, not to mention that I have better genes than all of the men you have dated and they certainly would turn out well what with your ability to show compassion, add in my ability to train them into highly intelligent beings I think they have a great possibility of turning out-"

"Stop talking about our children in terms of, of, of a business transaction, as if you're breeding animals." Molly sputtered. Sherlock smirked.

"Molly, Molly, I would think that you would consider the benefits of having children with someone so perfect as me, after all, our non existent children would be perfect… they might even absorb some of that compassion that you and John claim is so important. Survival of the fittest and all"

"Why do you insist upon talking about children that will never happen!" Molly said, disappointed when Sherlock said nonexistent. So much for the proposal she was sure had been coming. Sherlock seemed to sense that she was getting fed up and pulled something out of his pocket, sliding it quietly onto her left ring finger.

"Who's to say they won't."

"Because…" Molly said, letting her hands fly up into the air and trailing off as her something gold glinted against her finger in the light.

"So, marry me?" Sherlock suggested, looking unsure of himself for the first time in a long time.

"Well, I suppose I am already wearing your ring." Molly giggled in shock, wrapping her arms around Sherlock's neck as her stood up to embrace her.

"I suggest we get started procreating right away." Sherlock said. "Everyone was so happy for us, wouldn't want to disappoint."

"Naturally not." Molly whispered, leaning in. "Bedroom?"

"Bedroom."

 **A/N** : **So I discovered about half of this story, left unfinished a year ago, and finished it off. I don't know if I like my characterization of Sherlock, it's a little bit off, but whatever. My aunt actually gets a certain number of elevator rides before she has to pay extra to her building landlord though, awful, right?**


End file.
